


The Chase

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Chases, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Injury, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21547993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: One night, Shizuo decides to run Izaya down until he finally, finally corners him.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 16
Kudos: 247





	The Chase

The sun is setting over Ikebukuro. Izaya is too far away for Shizuo to see him clearly, but the orange fire of the sky frames his lithe frame, and it is impossible for Shizuo not to recognise him. Shizuo lurches forward. 

Izaya had took off and run and not looked back since. 

Shizuo hurtles after him until long after the sun has set. He had been unable to shake Shizuo off like he normally did. He was either teasing or he was tired.  Just when Shizuo thought he had lost the informant he would appear somewhere up ahead. And just when he thought he was maddeningly close, the informant would put on a burst of speed and get clear away.

There’s an acrid taste in Shizuo’s mouth, his blood running too hot. This had gone on too long. He knows he should give up himself, but he's so close. Izaya would be getting tired too. He would be disoriented, perhaps unable to coordinate enough to take out his knives.

This is the most intellectual thought he has had all night. He is mainly running like an animal, like a dog after a hare, with no thoughts whatsoever. No, he can't give in now. He'll run until one or both of them drop.

They are fairly high up in the buildings now. Izaya leaps from one to the other haphazardly, with none of his usual flourish. He is running for another jump when he stops so suddenly that Shizuo also halts out of instinct. His chest hurts. He savours the pause to heave in the night air, blissful and cool as water.

He realises gradually why the informant has stopped. The building that used to neighbour their current one has been demolished. The nearest one is not so near at all, and Izaya doesn't look like he can make it. He is cornered.

Also heaving for air, the informant turns round slowly so that he is facing Shizuo and falls back a few steps. He puts his hands out behind him to steady himself on the railings, jacket slipping down his shoulders. He is dishelved for once in his life, hair sticking to his forehead.  His profile is outlined by moonlight and the neon of the city, trembling slightly, his hair obscuring his face. Shizuo notices only then that his left foot is slightly raised, held like an injured deer. They stare at each other wordlessly.

Shizuo realises in a distant sort of way that somehow he is hard, even though he is not at all aroused. Too much blood is rushing around his body too fast. He breathes in deep as his head swims. He waits for Izaya to insult him, to do something, to give him some sort of sign, but he merely watches Shizuo and waits, as if resigned to his fate. 

Slowly, with effort, Shizuo turns his back on Izaya and walks away. He reaches the other end of the building and leans against the railings to smoke a cigarette. 

He stays there for a long time listening to the noise of the city below them, as his heart gradually calms down. His fingers are almost numb. He hadn't realised how cold it was until now. He finishes his cigarette with a sigh and turns back to face the informant, who hadn't moved.  Slumped against the railings, head down, his foot is still slightly raised, and  Shizuo experiences a twinge of guilt.

Izaya straightens when Shizuo starts to approach,  tense with alarm. Shizuo sighs. 

“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand.

Izaya stares at him as if he didn't understand.

Shizuo gives him a moment to move by himself, before stepping forward and taking his arm. It takes another few moments for Izaya to understand, for him to trust Shizuo enough to let go of the railings and lean on him fully. 

The fire door is unlocked, the elevator working, and they ride it down together like civilised people. The outer door, however, is locked, and Shizuo has to momentarily rest Izaya against the wall so he can kick it in.

When they make it out, although they had hurtled over the building roofs many times, Shizuo realises he doesn't have a clue where they are. Clumps of people are sitting on the sidewalk and leaning against out of business buildings behind them. They look like they have just left a club and don't know what to do next. They look at the newcomers curiously, especially at Izaya. Some have glazed eyes, but some look as sharp as one of Izaya's knives.

Shizuo swallows.

“Come on.”

He pulls Izaya along, a little faster than would be comfortable, but the informant doesn't protest.

They haven’t got far when something wonderful in bright lights appears. A cab. One of those overpriced sharks that lurk outside stations and hotels, but Shizuo’s past caring. He helps Izaya inside and tells the driver his address. 

Izaya has still not said a word. Shizuo surmises that this is more out of contempt than fear or pain. He sinks back into his seat and closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of not being still.

The sensible thing to do, Shizuo knows, would be to leave Izaya in the cab to go to his own place, to limp into his lobby and take the well maintained elevator. So Shizuo doesn’t know why he tugs Izaya out with him after he’s paid, or why the informant still doesn’t resist. 

The warmth of Shizuo’s home engulfs him like a hug. He turns on all the lights and helps Izaya sit on the edge of his bed, and the informant starts taking off his shoes and jacket as if he were in his own home.

“I’ll get you an ice pack,” Shizuo mumbles, noticing him awkwardly holding his foot aloft, and heads for the kitchen.

He realises only now that he is aching all over, that he will collapse if he does not sleep soon. He moves around on autopilot, removing his own shoes and getting Izaya his ice.  When he returns to the bed, however, the informant is asleep. He has had the sense to elevate his swollen looking ankle on his rolled up jacket and one of Shizuo's pillows, but is otherwise still dressed, lying on top of the covers with his head to one side. Shizuo watches him for a moment, as if it were a joke, before realising that the informant was indeed asleep. He looks at the dripping ice pack in his hand, and quietly takes it back to the kitchen.

Then he finds his pyjamas and undresses carefully, watching the informant out of the corner of his eye, though is in such a deep sleep he barely seems to be breathing. After a moment’s thought, Shizuo finds a spare quilt in the cupboard, as the other is currently trapped under Izaya’s body. He lies next to Izaya carefully, awkwardly sharing the remaining pillow, and drops into a deep, easy sleep.

-  
  


He wakes blissfully warm. Something is warming him. He’s sore for some reason, but wonderfully comfortable, strangely happy. He must have had a good dream. 

He is tickled by something that must be Izaya’s eyelashes against his throat. Shizuo's eyes snap open. He cranes his head slightly, and finds the informant at a slightly strange angle in Shizuo's arms, buried in his throat, his ankle still stretched out awkwardly on the pillow. 

He doesn’t realise the informant is awake until he sighs and rolls away.

“What an anti-climax,” he drawls.

Shizuo says nothing.

“What time is it?”

Shizuo feels for his phone in the dark, before remembering its battery.

“I don’t know. My phone’s dead.”

Izaya shuffles around in the dark and produces a small square of light.

“5am,” he sighs. “I’m going back to sleep, if that’s OK with you.”

-  
  


When he wakes up again, Izaya is back against Shizuo’s chest, only this time Shizuo has slung an arm round him to hold him there. He wonders if their previous conversation had even happened, or whether it had been a pointless dream. It is daylight now, but it is a Sunday and Shizuo does not have to think or to do anything. Izaya is awake too, he can tell, but he doesn't say anything or roll away again. Shizuo's eyes grow heavy again. He could stay like this all day, being held, quietly forgiving each other.

The light in the room is strange. He can sense it even when he closes his eyes. He raises his head an inch to look out the window, and realises. 

“It’s snowing.”

“Is it,” Izaya says without lifting his head.

Shizuo tries to look at him without moving. The informant's skin is cool, like porcelain. Shizuo sleepily holds the inside of other's arm to his cheek to cool it. Izaya absently runs his fingers through Shizuo’s hair.

He only gets up when he is too desperately thirsty not to. They had worn each other out last night. He brings a pitcher of water and two glasses over to the bed.  Izaya sits up and carefully rolls up his jeans. They both look at the ankle that’s swollen to twice its size. 

“I’ll go soon," he says. "I need a bath.”

Shizuo, who’s own bath is more like an oversized sink, says nothing at first.

"I'll get you an icepack."

This is what he says, but he is r eluctant to get up and spoil the moment. He looks at Izaya warily, who is still inspecting his ankle. Before he can think about it, he leans across the bed and kisses him. He feels the informant jump with surprise. But then a cool little hand is at the back of Shizuo's neck to hold him in place.

He looks amused when Shizuo pulls away.

“Maybe I’ll stay here til I can walk,” he says. He says it with a challenge in his eyes that Shizuo has no idea if it is intended to be annoying or playful or deadly serious.

So Shizuo shrugs and says, “OK.”


End file.
